Proven Wrong Once Again
by TennantsLittleKitten
Summary: Before the green swirls could arise from her fingertips, his hand reached out and grabbed a hold of hers. He held onto her firmly, yet with a certain gentle care. "No." he breathed.


The sun had settled beneath the Earth, giving rise to the brilliance of a full moon. The new Queen had been safely tucked away into her bed while the Fairy of the Moors and her loyal servant retreated to their own dwellings. The mighty horns upon her head and the massive wings trailing behind her cast a magnificent shadow. A man in black with randomly scattered feathers flapped along at her side. They stopped under a massive tree, near the lake. Apple blossoms fell from its branches and sprinkled ripples along the water's surface.

"Goodnight, Diaval." She chimed as she began to flick her wrist.

Before the green swirls could arise from her fingertips, his hand reached out and grabbed a hold of hers. He held onto her firmly, yet with a certain gentle care. "No." he breathed.

"But, every night you wish to be returned –" she began to retort confused and startled.

"Not tonight." He pressed. There was an unusual dominance underlying the silky tone of his voice; something that neither knew was possible. His chocolate eyes fixated upon the sea foam swirls of her irises. His grip on her hand eased slightly as he tenderly pulled it towards his chest. He tilted his face; a slick of black hair falling across his forehead. His lips found hers and his eyelids fluttered closed.

The sudden act stirred the fear within her. But as he lingered upon her lips, so sincere and so kind, a sensation rose from her core and warmed every inch of her body. Never had she felt anything like it.

Then, he parted from her and slid his hand into hers, still keeping it between their torsos. He searched her face for a reaction and feared being turned to avian form for one last time. Instead, however, she stared at him in awe; still taken aback by her servant's boldness.

Finally she spoke: "If it is freedom you seek, then I grant you it. You have more than repaid your debt." It was an icy blow, she realized, especially after such a display of affection.

"Freedom?!" he crowed back at her. His knitted brow revealed how much the words has stung. "Sixteen years, Maleficent! I could have flown off ages ago!" It was the first time he had addressed her as anything but 'Mistress'. The desperation in his voice rang clear. "When you said that you needed me to be your wings, I made a promise. A promise to stand at your side. Now you have your wings again and you're willing to just cast me away? I need _you_now. I need you to see me as your equal. I want to stand _by_ your side…forever." That was his final plea. There was nothing he could add; nothing more he could do. He released her hand and let his arms fall to his sides in defeat. He squeezed his eyes shut, anticipating the swirl of nausea that accompanied each transformation.

Instead, he felt a warm hand trace the markings on his cheek. "I've always considered you my equal." She replied. His eyes reopened to be greeted with the sincerity of her expression. Her hand retreated and she looked away shyly over her compassionate display. He sighed lightly, certain that it was all she had to declare. "You know," she began softly, "I've always believed that it did not exist. But here I am, proven wrong once again."

"What is that, Mistress?" he asked, submissively.

Her gaze fixed upon him, eyes darting back and forth to lock onto his. "True love." The words were a mere whisper as her lips found his. Her fear melted away as he leaned further into her kiss. The tension left his body as her fingers twisted into the locks of his hair. Placing his hands around her waist, they departed from their union. The two could only smile, eyes twinkling in the moonlight. Then he scooped her up with ease. Her wings folded around him as he carried her off. He set her down gently upon a bed of moss. The cool dampness sending gooseflesh across her skin. He lay down beside her, resuming their kiss. That night a deep passion ensued, stemming from a love that had blossomed for sixteen wonderful years.


End file.
